i have learned the hard way
that just because something
has been buried does not mean
it’s dead
i have seen enough
late night tv to know
that which emerges in the dark
having tarried long underground
is always hungry
for what is thickening in your
skull like rendered fat
self-immolation is the only
defense against these
plutonian horrors
why do you think the norse gods
preferred it to burial
no one grows up hoping
to be a cannibal
or his dinner
——
Words and Feathers 
one rise from his grave when we remember.
I prefer cremation as well. Interesting that the Norse gods preferred it as well.
All those Viking funerals…
Yes we should better be burned. Or even served to vultures
Sky burials all around!
Great take on the prompt. Burn baby burn.
Thank you!
Zombie apocalypse, here we come! Though I think it’s more likely that we rise again as plant life, ready to start the whole cycle off again.
I’d probably come back as a weed.
oh………that last stanza makes me grimace and shiver!!!!
😀
A read macabre!
Wow! Stark and arresting, especially the closing lines.
Thank you very much! I’m glad you stopped by.
Chilling!
I greatly admire how you take all things to the air. Fly on, my friend!
Thank you. Sometimes I get lucky and it’s interesting.
Bring the darkness. Very cool take on the prompt – love it!
Thank you very much!
I’ve tried burying things you swear never to want again (toxic friendships, selfish lover, painful memories), yet I always seemed to dig them all up again. What is it with self-destruction that baits us? We cannibalize ourselves.
I got goosies reading your words. Brilliant. Hurts so good. xo
Thank you, Rose. You make me glad I stick with it.
My pleasure! Those who are sticky, always have the most fun 😜
That’s what I like to hear.
[…] My poem was inspired by my irrepressible friend, Charles, and his poetry, Underground. […]
I love to inspire!
The first stanza would be a fine short poem all by itself, in the spirit of haiku.
Thanks!